


It's Still You

by Sasspiria



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha Timothy Lawrence, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Timothy Lawrence, Jack Being an Asshole, M/M, Omega Rhys, Pain, Scarification, They're so sweet and gross blegh, Timothy's Self-Confidence And Identity Issues, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, kripke'd, rhys is a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21884194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sasspiria/pseuds/Sasspiria
Summary: After Jack brands Timothy with the vault symbol, he's in a lot of physical pain and emotionally tattered. Luckily, he's got Rhys to help him pull himself back together.
Relationships: Timothy Lawrence/Rhys
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64





	It's Still You

**Author's Note:**

> it's canon now that Timothy got branded with the vault symbol we got canonized guys gals and n-pals, so i thought i'd write a bit of hurt/comfort rhysothy for the best doppelganger

It was late when Timothy had staggered into their apartment. He smelled like a sickening mixture of alcohol, burning flesh and Jack’s own scents. The smell of it all mixed together was nearly oppressive and Rhys couldn’t help but let out a distressed whine as it assaulted his senses. He didn’t realize it was Timothy at first, he had assumed that there was some intruder, until he saw him holding onto the wall so tightly that his fingers were white and raw looking. If he didn’t have that support, there was no doubt in Rhys’ mind that he would be stumbling and tripping over his own feet.

Rhys walked over to his bond mate in a hurry. He worried and fretted over him the minute that he was within reaching distance. He tried to be as gentle as possible when he grabbed a hold of Timothy’s arm and pulled him along into the living room so that Timothy could collapse on the couch. He practically hung all over Rhys’ slim frame as they trudged the short distance. Once they were sitting down, Rhys felt less panicked. It was okay. At least nothing worse could happen now, or so he thought. That was when he noticed the metal clasps fused to his temples. It was a mask, held tight to his face. It was nearly identical to Handsome Jack’s mask. “Oh, Tim…” He said, tone overflowing with sympathy. “What did he do to you?” He asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. He ran his fingers through Timothy’s hair, gently calling the alpha to attention.

Before Rhys had met Jack, before he had officially taken on the mantel as Hyperion’s CEO – whether or not he killed Tassiter to get that position was still left up to debate upon Hyperion lackeys like Rhys, but he had a good idea what the truth was – he had liked and admired the man. He had appreciated what he was trying to do for Pandora. And then he got up close and personal with the man and he started to realize what a monster he really was. “ _Well_ …I wouldn’t be a good body double if I didn’t match Jack one hundred percent." Timothy recited what Jack had told him right after he had been strapped down to a medical table and he was helpless to the mans whims, tone cold and withdrawn.

There was still a prickling feeling under his skin. He still felt bitter and helpless. Maybe he always did and he always would. Maybe this just made it harder to hide it under a handsome face and a reminder to himself to just be like Jack.

_Be like Jack. Talk like Jack. Walk like Jack._

It was just one more thing, chipping away at whatever was left of him until he became just another carbon copy Handsome Jack clone. He hated Jack. Hated Hyperion. Hated the student loans that threw him deep into debt. Hated himself, for being stupid and desperate to sign that contract in the first place. He was so stupid. He should have figured something out. Anything but this.

Rhys worried at his lower lip. He had never seen his alpha like this. Not when he’d discovered the massive debt that he had been thrown in. Not after the surgery. Not even after Jack had started demanding that he be injected with his DNA. “Can you take it off?” He asked, after a moment of awkward and deliberative silence had passed between the two of them.

Timothy smiled at Rhys, but it was in that Handsome Jack sort of way – like he thought he could flirt his way out of this situation. Like maybe he could flirt his way out of the scars on his face. “Take what off?” He said. The next thing that he knew, Rhys was practically sliding into his lap. His breath hitched, just a bit, in anticipation. Timothy had always been a little bit intimidated by Rhys, by his forwardness, by his confidence and the way that he could just walk up and demand what he wanted from anyone.

Maybe he was just putting him on a pedestal – he probably was – but he thought Rhys was bravest person that he had ever met. Even with Jack’s DNA fused with his own, he never really got over his hard wired shyness. When they first met, Timothy could barely get through a whole sentence without blushing like mad and stuttering all of his words. It took him months to get comfortable enough to ask Rhys out on a date and even then he had been nervous and fumbling through every word and action.

Rhys’ fingers flew to his face, thumbs scraping along the edges of them. “I think you know what I mean.” He said, tone surprisingly patient. He wore a gentle smile, one that only Timothy, Vaughn or Yvette were ever privy to see. One of his fingers twirled playfully at Timothy’s – Jack’s? – fringe in a small attempt to sooth his mate and get him to stop closing himself off. “Can you?” He repeated, softer.

Timothy sighed, “Yeah. I can…” He answered finally. His hands moved towards the clasps at his temple, brushing momentarily against Rhys’ fingers as he did so. “I can take it off. I should warn you first that- it’s just… you aren’t going to like this.”

There had been many times when Timothy felt like a monster, doing Jack’s bidding had a habit of making him feel monstrous. He had killed more people, had more blood on his hands than he ever wanted to have to think about. He stabbed people in the back. Lied. Cheated. And all on Jack’s behalf.

But never had he looked in the mirror, saw his face and thought that not only did he do monstrous things, but that he looked like a monster. Like something out of a horror film. He wouldn’t blame Rhys if he decided that this was enough, that he hadn’t signed up for any of this.

He takes a breath, prepares to accept the inevitable, and pulls it off of his face with heavily trembling fingers. He nearly drops the mask, shattering it. Jack wouldn’t like that. Rhys doesn’t say a word at first. For once in his life, he’s completely speechless. Timothy can feel that this is the end for them. Rhys is gonna go move back in with Vaughn, start ghosting him, and sever ties with him physically until their bond breaks. It’s an… unpleasant thought, but it feels like the truth.

Whatever hurts is true, he thinks, and the thought of Rhys leaving him hurts him more than anything.

Timothy is the first to speak, hoping that maybe he could control the damage here. “It’s a lot. I know.” He said, his hands hovering over his cheeks as if to cover his face from Rhys’ sight. “This,” He gestured towards his face, like Rhys would have had no idea otherwise.

“He did it to all the doppelgangers. I was the last one.” He didn’t explain why, but they both knew. He was the first body double that Jack had commissioned for, and he was Jack’s favorite. He wanted to be able to look at that handsome face for as long as possible, but in the end Timothy needed to match him perfectly. In every respect. Even in ways that he knew that Jack hated about himself.

Rhys’ brows knitted with concern, “Does it hurt?” He asked, knowing that it was probably a stupid question. Of course it hurt. The skin on his face had been marred and burned blue with an inverted vault symbol. It was horrifying, Rhys felt pain tickling at his own skin just from the sight of it.

“Eh? What this little scrape? I’ve had worse.” Timothy replied mostly as a joke, though it came off weak and unconvincing. He tried to laugh it off and when he did, he swore he could feel something tearing underneath his skin. It burned. Then it was just slicing, stabbing pain that left him incoherently babbling for… something. Then he was flailing, he couldn’t see – all he could comprehend was the intense hurt that he was feeling.

Rhys slid off of him, opting to sit right at his side. Timothy felt an ease of pressure, just a slight one, as he tried to force himself to breath right. Rhys stayed right by his side, saying words that he couldn’t really comprehend but nonetheless felt soothed by. He could feel Rhys’ gentle, soft hands petting at his skin, easing him back to reality with every gentle word and soothing touch.

The mask goes back on after that. There were little dopamine receptors fused into the clasp. It made the pain nearly non-existent. Manageable at least. Timothy let out a soft sigh, “Sorry about all this. I know this isn’t…” He trailed off. “It’s not a good look.” He says, tone devoid of all confidence and charisma.

Timothy nearly sounds like he did, back in college, when he was an anxious wreck with a squeaky voice and a passion for writing. “It’s not that bad.” Rhys says offhandedly. He even makes a vague sweeping gesture with his hand, like he’s pushing it all under the proverbial rug.

Because, really, he doesn’t care all that much about how Timothy looks. He never had, really – Rhys had liked Timothy for a lot of reasons. He liked how kind he was, how clever he was, he liked his creativity and the fact that he had always respected Rhys on his own merits and he never looked down upon him for his endotype. His looks had never been a factor in all of that.

Timothy let out a soft scoff at that, completely unconvinced. “Yeah, right.” He grumbled to himself. Even if it was under the mask, he had never looked this awful or this disfigured in his life. The thought that he would end up looking in the mirror every morning, even for just a few minutes, see himself and think “monster” as he looked upon his unmasked face, was warping his thoughts.

He was spiraling, upset and erratic. He knew it but couldn’t bring himself to do much to stop it. Rhys knew it too and he decided that it was up to him to put a stop to it. Rhys pursed his lips and then he moved back over, so that he was straddling the alpha’s hips again and pulled Timothy’s face in his hands and their foreheads pressed together. “I don’t care about what’s under that mask. Okay? It’s still you.” Rhys said, like he always did when Timothy felt overshadowed the man whose face he had been made to wear. They kissed, slow and sweet like dripping honey.

“Yeah?” Timothy replied, still unsure after they finally pulled away from each other. Rhys rest his head on Timothy’s shoulder, eased up close to him. “You sure about that?”

Rhys just nodded, not skipping a beat. “Of course I’m sure.” He replied, “No matter what, it will always be you.” He assured, “And I love _you_.”

_Not Jack. Not your face. You._


End file.
